Page 9 of The Captive's Curse
When I leaned over to see who’d spoken, I found him leaning in too, grinning at me across the man in the middle. To my surprise, I didn’t see any malice at all in his expression, or even mockery beyond the good-natured. The fellow wasn’t ill-favored, either. A bit rougher than I’d usually like, with short-cropped brown hair, a jagged scar down his cheek, and a nose that’d clearly met more than its share of hard objects. But not bad.
“I am indeed,” I replied, smiling at him and really meaning it. Gods, but it was pleasant to have someone speak to me kindly. Especially when that someone had the potential tofuck me to my satisfaction. “I can always tell when a man’s worth my time.”
He blinked at me, blue eyes widening a little bit. “I’m, ah, flattered, Lord Cyril,” he said, voice deepening slightly. Oh, yes, he definitely wasn’t too bad at all.
I smiled a little more, making sure it was enough to show off the dimple in my left cheek. “No need to—”
“Aren’t you going to wait to be introduced before you let him use your name?” Enzo demanded, and I turned my head to stare at him. He’d sat bolt upright in his chair at last. “I doubt you and Finn have any acquaintances in common, either.”
The glints had vanished: Enzo’s eyes had darkened, their depths shifting, as if thunderclouds were gathering there.
“It’s better than calling him Your Ver-something-or-other High Lordship, whatever the fuck that means,” Finn put in. “And so as to be introduced properly, I’m Finn, Lord Cyril. In case you give a damn.”
Enzo’s eyes bored into me. Heat built down low in my belly.
With a wrench, I looked away, back at Finn.
“Very pleased to meet you, Finn,” I said, too breathily. But maybe they’d all take that as a reaction to Finn, rather than an uncontrollable response to Enzo’s intense scrutiny. I glanced back at him out of the corner of my eye, unable to resist. His sour expression made my chest give a little squeeze. Fuck him. I turned my attention fully to Finn—or at least, I looked like I did. “I’m hungry. Would you mind passing me something from that platter? Some bread? And perhaps a large serving of that very delicious…meat.”
I let my voice drop lower, and fluttered my eyelashes, tilting my head so Enzo would see it too.
Enzo shoved his chair back from the table with a horrid screech of wood on stone. “Finish your breakfasts and bloodywell get to work,” he snapped, rising to his feet. “I’ll be in the armory.”
And with that, he turned and strode up the stairs to the dais and then out through another door in the back of the room. I couldn’t help watching him until he disappeared, the breadth of his shoulders and the length of his legs, and I hated myself for it. My brother had better be filling a bag with silver at this moment, all ready to pay my ransom and get me out of here, Mad Lord’s legend or no. I’d heard that sometimes prisoners could be taught to think of their captors as their friends, to care for them and wish to stay with them even when they’d been rescued.
Or in my case, it seemed, to want to spread their legs. Could that happen in only one day? Possibly if you were as much of a slut as I seemed to be. Dawn mages were often derided as tarts and whores, and all my adult life I’d shown them, damn it: I’d enjoyed the hell out of tarting and whoring my way through as many men as I could seduce.
Perhaps that hadn’t been the healthiest reaction, after all. Something to ponder later. Much, much later.
“Whew,” Finn said. “What crawled up his ass and died this morning? Hold out your plate, Lord Cyril. And one of the lads can bring some fresh coffee.”
I did as he said, and he piled bread and bacon on my plate. Gods, I was ravenous, and the scent of it nearly had me drooling on the table, Enzo be damned.
The huge man between me and Finn simply shrugged and carried on eating. But the one across from me, sitting beside Enzo’s empty chair, shook his head and laughed. I’d barely noticed him, probably because his stature only slightly eclipsed mine. Stunted child indeed, when Enzo had an apparent lieutenant who might have half an inch at most on me! In fact, it might very well be this fellow’s shirt I’d left in wispy bits inmy room’s fireplace. I’d have felt guilty if it hadn’t been such a dreadful shirt to begin with—really, I’d done him a favor.
“Finn, if you don’t know what Enzo’s problem is, I’m not going to be the one to spell it out for you,” he said with an infectious grin. Finn grunted and took another slice of bacon.
“I’m Leander,” he went on, dark eyes sparkling. Well, he might be rather petite, but he had nice eyes. And hair only a shade lighter than Enzo’s to go with them. In fact, they resembled each other a bit. Could they be related? “Lord Cyril, eat your breakfast and don’t trouble yourself about it,” he added. “Enzo’s an asshole half the time, and no one can ever predict which half.”
The words, and the fond tone and roll of his eyes, all suggested intimacy. Definitely related.
Or lovers.
Ugh.
“Thank you,” I said, a little too stiffly. It was none of my fucking business whom Enzo fucked, damn it all. I was not yet one of those prisoners whose minds had gone weak! And I never would be!
I forced myself to add, “I appreciate it,” with more warmth. Leander’s friendliness might be my best hope for finding out more about this castle.
He nodded. “Happy to translate Enzo’s snarling into human speech as needed during your stay with us, although I expect it’ll be brief.” He grinned again, and winked. Charming. Truly, he was charming, enough to give me healthy competition, damn him. “Your brother’s rich enough to pay off a lot more than Enzo’s modest demands. He’s not looking to create ill-will, you understand. Just make a living.”
Not looking to—I sat up a little bit straighter on my bench. No, I couldn’t let that absurdity pass without comment.And it might be the opening I needed to introduce the topic of the castle, too.
“Kidnapping me at all creates ill-will!” I protested. “I hadn’t even thought of the possibility of being abducted by your merry band of ruffians when I rode out yesterday, because I assumed I’d be left alone on the edges of our own land. I’d think Enzo would want to remain on good terms with the local gentry. Parties of foreigners going over the pass, all right, that’ll be ignored to some extent. But if he makes himself too much of a nuisance, everyone will band together and drive him out of this place. Surely it belongs to someone else, anyway? You know, I’ve even heard a rumor that it used to belong to Mad Lord Vincenzo.”
I picked up a piece of bacon and took an aggressive bite, extremely pleased with myself, and waited.
And waited a bit more. Leander blinked, his mouth compressing, looking very uncomfortable. Clearly I’d hit a nerve.
